On Leave
by Penelope Louise
Summary: Ziva calls in ill. Tony wants to know what is going on. Fun and games ensue. One-shot. Tiva.


_**A/N: I was pondering the idea of Ziva and lateness and illness. This fic is set before we come into contact with Michael Rivkin, so Tony doesn't know who he is.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own the Hollister top I am wearing. Unfortunately, I do not own NCIS. Or Hollister. Damn.  
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"McGeek, where's Ziva?" Tony asked, walking into the bullpen, half an hour late.

"No idea." McGee replied, still not looking up from what he was doing on his computer.

"She's not normally late…" Tony mused, as he sat down at his desk.

"She's not late, DiNozzo. She's ill." Gibbs said, walking past Tony's desk to his own. Tony raised his eyebrows.

"That's even worse. Ziva never gets ill!"

"I have to agree." McGee added, and Gibbs smiled.

"Maybe you should go and see if she's alright." He suggested, pointedly looking at Tony. He suggested a smirk when the senior agent jumped up and basically ran to the lift.

"Thanks boss!" McGee looked after the older agent and then back at Gibbs before returning to his computer.

Tony rapped his knuckles against the door. No answer. He tried again. Still, no answer.

"Ziva?" He called, ignoring one elderly woman who was staring down at him from the window of the apartment next to Ziva's. "Ziva?"

He knocked again. The door opened a fraction, and a familiar eye looked through the crack.

"Tony?" Her voice was rasping.

"Ziva, what's wrong?" Tony asked, and she opened the door more to let him in. He stepped through and she shut the door behind him. She turned away from him. "Speak to me, Zee."

He still received no answer. When he moved his hand to her shoulder, he noticed how she flinched slightly.

"Ziva. Who did this?" Tony pressed her for details. She walked away to sit on the couch. He followed and sat next to her. A bruise decorated her right cheek, and there was a red mark down her arm, a deep scratch possibly caused by a knife.

"It is none of your business." Ziva's voice was stony. Stubborn, like when she didn't want people to think she needed help.

"Ziva…" Tony's voice was surprisingly stern.

"Michael." Ziva replied, her voice little more than a whisper.

"Michael?" Tony asked, not recognizing the name.

"Michael Rivkin. He was my… well, my father organized a marriage. I cut it off when I came over here." Ziva explained slowly.

"And I can guess he wasn't too please about that." Tony guessed. Ziva nodded.

"You guess correctly." She replied, sighing. Tony stroked her hair gently with one hand, not really noticing he was doing it. Ziva had noticed however, and was feeling considerably more relaxed already.

"Where is he now?" Tony asked.

"I do not know." Ziva replied, glad she didn't. She rather didn't want Tony getting hurt too.

"Do you want me to tell Gibbs?" Tony asked, but Ziva shook her head fiercely.

"This is our… little secret. Yes?" Ziva asked, and Tony smiled.

"If you say so." Ziva shifted slightly to lean her head on Tony's shoulder. It had only just dawned on her just quite how tired she actually was. There was a knock on the door and Ziva jumped.

"Stay there." Tony told her, and she was in no place to disagree. He stood up and walked over to the door. He looked out of the peephole, then walked back to Ziva. "Israeli looking, short black hair."

"That is him." Ziva confirmed. Tony stormed back off to the door and yanked it opened.

"Shalom." Tony said, in a completely faked sweet tone. Michael glared at him.

"And who would you be?" He demanded.

"Ziva's partner." Tony smiled angelically. Michael tried to barge past, but Tony blocked his way. "That's not very polite, is it?"

Michael glared at Tony. "Ziva. Get this man out of my house."

"Your house?" Tony asked, raising his eyebrows. "Since Ziva lives here and pays the rent, I'd rather call it Ziva's house."

"What is Ziva's belongs to me." Michael said, narrowing his eyes at the pesky agent.

"What is Ziva's belongs to Ziva." Tony corrected, and shut the door in Michael's face.

"You shouldn't have done that." Ziva said regretfully, but Tony was dialling on his cell phone.

"We have a small issue of a pissed off Israeli outside Ziva's apartment. May we have him removed on the charge of harassment?" Tony requested. Gibbs smirked.

"Be right there, DiNozzo." Gibbs said, snapping his phone shut. "McGee, grab your gear."

"Yes, boss." McGee hurried after Gibbs. Soon enough, Michael was eventually removed, although unfortunately McGee did receive a black eye in the process.

"Well, he's out of the way." Tony told Ziva, who smiled weakly.

"My mother used to say, '_**Itsru et Ha'olam, Ani Rotze Laredet**_.' I am starting to agree with her." Ziva said. Tony looked at her, puzzled.

"And that means?" He questioned her.

"Stop the world, I want to get off."

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed my short one shot! Please review! **_

_**If you have any ideas, please tell me!**_


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